Pack The Car - We're Going on Holiday
Spring 2010
In the old days the family holiday was a much more reliable affair.
Work places would close for a couple of weeks, generally the last week in July/ first week in August. Those who had managed to put away a bit of money during the year would set about packing their Hillman Minx for the annual drive to ‘the continent’.
First in the boot would be two deck chairs (one for mum, one for dad), a picnic table, and a camping gaz stove to boil a kettle at pre-designated tea breaks and toilet stops. Next in was food (Europe was a very expensive place in those days and you certainly couldn’t buy marmalade or PG Tips.) and finally, clothes - crammed into all remaining gaps.
A smidgen of space would be left in the back seat for the two kids. “Just be bloody grateful you’re having a holiday”, was the retort to every murmur of a whinge.
iPods? Gameboys? Seat back movie screens? Not a chance. It was The Archers on the radio all the way to Dover and woe betide any child who squeaked.
Up on deck on the cross channel ferry was fun – escape from parents and the stuffy airless car. Back below, mum said “I’m glad I told you to take your ‘Sea Legs”, as the boat rolled and the stewed tea slithered across the table.
Once in France the excitement really kicked in. Dad wrestled with driving on the wrong side of the road as mum sucked and dad snapped at every close encounter. “Why can’t women read maps?’ he’d growl as she screamed, “keep your eyes on the road!”
A holiday was an annual event. A ‘City Break’ was a trip to the country and an airport was somewhere you stood outside to watch planes taking off and landing.
Then the eighties arrived and cheap ferries were replaced by cheap flights, airports became massive car parks and the world became everyone’s oyster, until Eyjafjallajokull started spewing and claimed back the sky for angry Viking gods. Additional assistance from BA renegades has made going abroad for Londoners a tricky and unpredictable challenge. Whilst legal sledgehammers may solve the latter, a grumpy volcano is beyond tempering and, we are told, might well continue to cause chaos for years to come.
As the summer of 2010 approaches we are still waiting for the start of spring. April showers drench the odd sprinkling of sun in May and, despite predictions of a scorcher the odds are we’re on for a hat trick of August gloom .
For a stress free holiday why not pack your picnic bits in the back of your SPV, extend your Tom-Tom subscription to Central Europe and load a few DVDs for the kids. Europe’s more expensive than it was a few years ago but getting cheaper by the day so no need to stock up on the Mars bars and biscuits before you go, and Twinning’s tea is everywhere. Book your car on the train from Folkestone to Calais then meander down through the vineyards of France to wherever takes your fancy.
Whilst your friends sit in airports you’ll be sitting pretty.
Work places would close for a couple of weeks, generally the last week in July/ first week in August. Those who had managed to put away a bit of money during the year would set about packing their Hillman Minx for the annual drive to ‘the continent’.
First in the boot would be two deck chairs (one for mum, one for dad), a picnic table, and a camping gaz stove to boil a kettle at pre-designated tea breaks and toilet stops. Next in was food (Europe was a very expensive place in those days and you certainly couldn’t buy marmalade or PG Tips.) and finally, clothes - crammed into all remaining gaps.
A smidgen of space would be left in the back seat for the two kids. “Just be bloody grateful you’re having a holiday”, was the retort to every murmur of a whinge.
iPods? Gameboys? Seat back movie screens? Not a chance. It was The Archers on the radio all the way to Dover and woe betide any child who squeaked.
Up on deck on the cross channel ferry was fun – escape from parents and the stuffy airless car. Back below, mum said “I’m glad I told you to take your ‘Sea Legs”, as the boat rolled and the stewed tea slithered across the table.
Once in France the excitement really kicked in. Dad wrestled with driving on the wrong side of the road as mum sucked and dad snapped at every close encounter. “Why can’t women read maps?’ he’d growl as she screamed, “keep your eyes on the road!”
A holiday was an annual event. A ‘City Break’ was a trip to the country and an airport was somewhere you stood outside to watch planes taking off and landing.
Then the eighties arrived and cheap ferries were replaced by cheap flights, airports became massive car parks and the world became everyone’s oyster, until Eyjafjallajokull started spewing and claimed back the sky for angry Viking gods. Additional assistance from BA renegades has made going abroad for Londoners a tricky and unpredictable challenge. Whilst legal sledgehammers may solve the latter, a grumpy volcano is beyond tempering and, we are told, might well continue to cause chaos for years to come.
As the summer of 2010 approaches we are still waiting for the start of spring. April showers drench the odd sprinkling of sun in May and, despite predictions of a scorcher the odds are we’re on for a hat trick of August gloom .
For a stress free holiday why not pack your picnic bits in the back of your SPV, extend your Tom-Tom subscription to Central Europe and load a few DVDs for the kids. Europe’s more expensive than it was a few years ago but getting cheaper by the day so no need to stock up on the Mars bars and biscuits before you go, and Twinning’s tea is everywhere. Book your car on the train from Folkestone to Calais then meander down through the vineyards of France to wherever takes your fancy.
Whilst your friends sit in airports you’ll be sitting pretty.
Be Frank: agree or disagree? What do you think?
